


Verisimilitude

by stifledlaughter



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: D/s, Dream Sex, F/M, dom!Delenn, no cheating just dreams, sub!Lennier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:50:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5923977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stifledlaughter/pseuds/stifledlaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In his dreams, she wore violet." <br/>----<br/>In Lennier's dreams, all of the interactions with Delenn were chaste, pure, innocent. <br/>They would not remain that way for long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Verisimilitude

**Author's Note:**

> My first Babylon 5 fic! I wrote this as an exercise in smut. Hope I did alright!

In his dreams, she wore violet.

Lennier had read in his human culture books that some cultures considered violet a mark of royalty, something that the lower classes were not allowed to wear. This mentality, apparently, faded over time, but to him, this was perfect.

Sometimes she would walk towards him as lie on his bed, always tense, alert, unsure of how she would react should he move towards her. He knew this was a dream- she would never betray Sheridan like this – but even in dreams he kept his distance. Of the situations his mind put him in, his training held tight, mirroring the restrictions he put on himself every day, with only slightly altered circumstances.

Sometimes he was at his desk, and a friendly hand would press on his shoulder, gently squeezing for a moment, her lilting lovely voice asking what he was working on, her human hair brushing past his jaw as she leaned over closely to examine his work. Other times it was not physical but possibly more intimate, as in the hazy darkness of dreaming he heard the pat of bare feet stepping into a room, the sound of the heavy outer layers of her elegant robes dropping, and her voice cheerfully calling out across the room, announcing this or that matter that happened on the Council today.

Even his fantasies were barely walking the line between the daily and the barely possible- never the extraordinary. Once, after he had worked himself to the point of exhaustion during a particularly rough week of the Shadow War, he had fallen into bed, and began to dream, feeling warm arms wrapped around him, holding him to her chest as he remained perfectly still, unquestioning, seeking only the warmth and comfort she provided. He could feel her breath on the top of his head, the tickle of her hair on his bare skin, and though he could not see her face in this dream, he knew that she was smiling as she held him. In his dream, he dared to press his forehead against her chest.

He hadn’t had a similar dream since, as he woke up from that one terrified, sweating, his hands gripped in fists. She was not a telepath- there is no way she could know he had dreamed this – but all the same, he made note to avoid her that day, claiming errands in far ends of the station that could have easily been put off for days when she was busy in the Council chambers.

In his dreams, all of the interactions were chaste, pure, innocent.

They would not remain that way for long.

\-----

The station had been stirring with the news of an arrival of a species that was rumored to be telepaths, all of them and not just a small segment of the population. Several ambassadors and assistants were coming to meet with the command crew and make brief first contact greetings – at least, that was the plan.

It came to light that the species apparently was not particularly interested in fanfares and formality, through the brief messages and contacts sent to Babylon 5. There would be no First Contact protocols, or meetings through delegated officials, but rather, they would come to the station, make the rounds, observe peacefully, perhaps meet Sheridan in his office, along with the others, if the occasion arose, and then quietly disappear again to discuss with their leaders whether or not to send an ambassador to Babylon 5 for a true diplomatic meeting.

It was fortunate that the Centauri and Narn already had their separate encounters with this new species, however brief, and confirmed them a non-violent and non-combatant race. Therefore, Lennier was not very perturbed when one of the delegates approached him in the hallway outside of the council chambers to speak.

“I am to understand that you are an assistant to the Minbari ambassador? I am Peshak, assistant to the second rank ambassador Kieta of the Irmelians.” The alien was of humanoid shape, with warm tan skinned arms visible and the rest wrapped in many layers of cloth. Bright brown eyes blinked out from underneath the many wraps around the head, with the mouth slightly muffled, but speech surprisingly clear.

“Greetings, Peshak. Yes, I am Lennier, assistant to Ambassador Delenn.” Lennier respectfully bowed in the Minbari fashion.

“Tell me, while the ambassadors talk of politics and treaties, I would be curious to know more about your kind. Since we are of similar rank, it feels… correct to speak to you. Is it true that you are not emotionally… sensitive?” Peshak was clearly struggling for the word.

“I believe the word you are looking for is telepathic? Most Minbari cannot sense another’s emotions or sentiments unless they choose to somehow communicate them using speech or body language. There are Minbari telepaths, but the majority of us are not.”

“Yes, you, Lennier, are not, this I can tell. However, your restraint is commendable.”

“Excuse me?” Lennier paused, trying to find the possible mistranslations from the translation machine he had been given this morning by one of Babylon 5’s language expert teams. It had its moments of failure, and he was unsure if this was one of them.

“Emotional restraint. Your emotions are bound very tightly in your mind. Restrained. For a non-telepath to develop such guards requires much work.”

Lennier was both shocked and relieved- he had always wondered somewhat what that telepaths on the station could pick up from him, and it seemed now that it wasn’t terribly much. “Ah, thank you.”

“But you must… replenish your energy, release, come back, return to the pool of strength.” said Peshak, and once again, Lennier was lost. The translation must not have had much time to work on the dictionary for this species, it seems. Idioms were lost, and thus, the meaning.

“I – yes, of course, I will do so,” Lennier said, slowly, bowing. “I apologize. I must be going- Ambassador Delenn will be leaving the meeting soon and we have much to discuss.”

“It has been good to meet you, Lennier, assistant to Ambassador Delenn.” With that, Peshak mirrored Lennier’s bow, and, after briefly hesitating, reached out and gently tapped the other’s hand with three fingers. “Be well.” With that, he left.

Lennier stood there for a moment, unsure of what just happened. Perhaps it was nothing. An inquisitive, gentle first contact conversation, something most ambassadors wish for every day of their career.

Voices grew loud in the hallway as the Council let out, and Lennier turned to look for Delenn in the crowd.

When the dream began that night, Lennier knew that something had changed.

\------

He lie supine on the bed, wearing his robes that were only loosely tied at the waist. He jerked up, looking around. Something was different, something was off-

“Hello, Lennier.”

When he turned, his first instinct when he saw her wearing only a lightweight lavender robe that stopped short at mid-thigh was to squeeze his eyes shut. “Delenn! I-“ He knew it was a dream, knew that she would never know of this, but he had never gotten this far in his dreams, she had always been in the many layers he saw her in every day-

“Open your eyes.”

He did, unable to resist a direct order from her, and took in her form, wrapped in cloth warmed by her body. Her hair curled down around her shoulders, and for a brief moment, he ached to touch it, to know what it felt like. He truly did not know- he believed he would never know. Was it soft, like it looked? Perhaps too slippery to really grasp? Perhaps like the silky flowers of his home planet that fluttered in the wind, soft tendrils swaying in the breezes? He was completely unsure. It was so… alien.

“Please, Delenn, I will leave at once-“ But to where? He had never had to leave the room in his dreams, he had always known that his thoughts would not go to places he would not allow them, but this, this was dangerous-

“Shhh, Lennier. Quiet.” With that she stepped closer and approached the side of the bed, and placed a finger on his lips, her face breaking into a warm smile.  

He fell back on the bed, stunned at the touch, electrified. He was speechless as she began to untie his robe, and pulled the belt out, tossing it to the edge of the bed. “Up, Lennier,” she said, her eyes glinting mischievously as she quickly removed his robe. He was only in his underclothes now, and painfully aware of how flushed he was, trying to keep his eyes anywhere but on her.

“Tell me, Lennier…” She appraised his body with a quick flick of her eyes, her good humor causing him to relax slightly. It seems in his dreams, there is no Sheridan, no other, just them, as he had wanted it.

“Yes, Delenn?” She could have asked anything in that moment, and he would have answered completely truthfully, enthralled by her, stripped down to his barest self.

“Tell me, Lennier, are you obedient?”

The words caused a stir inside of him, an ache. “Yes, of course, Delenn. You know I am.” Had he not proven it again and again, over the years? He would do it, as many times as needed, to show her.

“Then show me. Take off my robe.” With that, she lifted up her arms and looked at him, expectant, still smiling.

He did so, without question, without hesitation. His inhibitions were fading as she gave him commands. He knew he was good at following them, knew that if she said to do it, he must. A request was a command, and a command was law.

He must.

He stood facing her, his heart slamming in his chest as he lifted his fingertips to slowly undo the very loose belt on the robe. The knot was quickly undone and he pulled it out, tossing it with his on the bed.

Carefully, he raised his hands to her shoulders, and paused, meeting her eyes, waiting for another command.

“Do it,” she said softly, yet with a firmness backing her words. After that, there was no hesitation.

He slid his fingers under the fabric and pushed it back, exposing her smooth shoulders, her lovely expanse of collarbone and chest, and then her breasts. While Minbari women had similar shapes to humans, some of the particularities were different, and he couldn’t help but glance over them, wanting to feel them, understand her more.

“Let the robe drop and touch me,” Delenn instructed, her voice taking on a firmer, more commanding quality than before.

It was as if her commands were linked to his mind – instantly he slid his hands down her shoulders and cupped her breasts, smoothing his thumbs over the nipples, and then moved his hands down to her waist, over her hips. If he wanted to go lower, he would have to-

“Knees,” she said, and he dropped, no thought, just response. His hands clasped her lower black, smoothing down over her buttocks, and resting at the backs of her thighs, and he looked up at her, wordless, trembling very slightly, but also, slowly, incrementally, relaxing. She would tell him what to do. There would be no questioning. His actions would be perfectly executed according to her will.

She placed a hand behind his head, tilting it back so she could see his eyes. “You’re doing so well, Lennier. Let me tell you what to do, leave it to me.”

“Yes,” he whispered back, feeling his shoulders slacken at her words, knowing that all would be right if he obeyed her words. There existed nothing else but this moment, this comfort and the feel of her underneath his hands, and her hands smoothing over his headbone. His scalp tingled with pleasure, and he breathed out, the shaking subsiding.

They stayed like that for a moment, breathing, him on his knees in front of her, her hands on his head, until he heard her very softly laugh. “Lennier?”

“Yes?”

He could no longer see her, as she had tilted his head down at some point, but he could imagine her wicked smile as she said, “Pleasure me,” and firmly guided his head towards the inside of her thighs.

He was completely unsure of what to do, but guessing from the context, he began to lick, feeling her shudder on top of him as he did. Always the quick learner, he continued, kissing, licking, his extremely vague knowledge of human anatomy from his cultural studies serving as the lifeline he clung to as he tried his best to not be too forceful, but firm at the same time.

Holding onto his headbone, she guided him back and force, murmuring, gasping, and, as he very cautiously began to gently nibble and suck on her folds, she trembled, and gripped him. “On the bed,” she commanded, her voice slightly strained but still authoritative. He leapt up immediately and positioned himself sitting up against the backboard, trying with dignity to wipe his mouth on his shoulder. He was unaware of how messy this could all be, but barely had a moment to think about it before she came up next to him and tilted his face up to hers with her finger underneath his chin. “Remove your underclothes.”

No thought, only obedience, as he stripped himself down and leaned back again, oddly at peace with his nakedness, and only feeling expectant hope, admiration, and trust in Delenn, who was now stroking up and down his chest.

“Tell me, Lennier, what do you like?”

He wasn’t sure how to respond. He had never allowed himself to go this far in dreams, to imagine that he could ever be pleased. But perhaps that was it.

“This. I… just want to please you.” The warmth in his chest spread as she laughed a little at that, her eyes crinkling warmly. He dared to look over her again, and quietly asked, hesitating, “May I… touch you again?”

Instead of responding, she took his hand and guided it over her body, sliding it across her hips, stomach, breasts, thighs, dipping in between them to feel the warmth and wetness there. Guided, he didn’t feel lost, confused, or terrified, only wanted and useful, a tool to please and touch her. But then, she stopped, and he froze, waiting for her next words.

“Hands above your head,” she said, and he instantly did so, clasping them together. She leaned over and kissed him gently on the temple, and whispered, “So obedient, Lennier. Good.” He shuddered, feeling her warm breath on his skin.

“Close your eyes,” and instantly he was enveloped in darkness of his own doing. He felt her hands slide down his body, past his stomach muscles, always tense, taut with training, and down to his narrow hips, sliding over his thighs.

“Relax,” and his body melted back, his shoulders lowering and his neck loosening as he leaned his head back more. He felt her hands on his body again, skimming, pressing, kneading, gripping. If she wanted him to remain still for eternity, he would only need to be told so.

So it was with great shock that he felt her grip his shaft, and he was stunned into gasping, and immediately tensed again, beginning to panic, his dreams never got this far, already it was too much-

“Lennier, listen to me. Let me do this. Lie down. Breathe, let me do this.” She began to slowly stroke him, whispering to him, “So obedient, yes?” and “My Lennier, you’re doing so well.”

And he did, his eyes still closed, and again relaxing, unguarded, unrestrained, feeling pleasure in waves through him as she took him in her hand and in doing so made him feel vulnerable and protected at the same time, murmuring words into his ear, how he was so loyal and how she appreciated him, cared for him, his pleasure intensified and he felt so intimate, warm, breathing hard as he heard her say “Lennier, if you knew, if you only knew that I –“

He jerked awake, hands scrambling in the blankets, gasping, eyes wide. He was sweating, and his blankets were tangled. He looked at his own hands, blinking for a moment, and collapsed back into the covers.

A brief, striking ache at the loss of his dream, and then a flood of shame, deep shame, that his thoughts had been so unrestrained…

It would not happen again. He would build up reserves, be stronger. These thoughts would not consume him again. For a moment, he lost himself in the memories of the dream, feeling her hands on him, her words, tasting her, feeling at peace with her commands. He drowned for a moment in these sensations, the thoughts, and then pushed them aside, tampered them down, only for them to resurface again.

This time, he did not fight back as he fell back into slumber, and back into her arms.

 


End file.
